


Till death do us part

by troubleseeker



Series: Biggo Bingo bango 2018 [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Again, Anal Sex, Biggo Bingo Bango, Bleeding to death, Blood, Bottom Dean Winchester, Castration, Death, Gags, Graphic, Incest, M/M, Mentions of Underage Sex, Murder, Top Sam Winchester, Violence, anal penetration, as is, but it's a major theme, ducttape, not a major character - Freeform, ok, oral penetration, pedophilia is a theme here, so underage is tagged for mentions to underage, there is no actual underage on screen, wholesome murder lapsex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 05:25:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15834627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troubleseeker/pseuds/troubleseeker
Summary: biggo bingo bango square - wholesome murder lapsexIt's Sammy's 18th birthday, and Dean has a very special present ready for him.This is dark. Darker than most of my stuff. You're warned. Read the tags.The brother's backstory is in the end notes.





	Till death do us part

**Author's Note:**

> No betta, all mistake are my own (and may be pointed out if you so please)
> 
> Every superhero has a darker backstory, Sammy. Ours is just a bit darker than most.

“Open your eyes baby boy.”

Dean spun Sam around, taking his hands away from Sam’s eyes, and leaning to the side to watch his brother's reaction.

“Happy birthday.”

“Oh Dean! I love it!”

“Everything for you baby. Everything for you.” Dean smiled with all his teeth. “Needed something special for your special day.”

Not giving an inch, Dean slipped his arms around his brother’s ever broadening waist while he sought his usual hideout in Sammy's neck.

“What did he do?”

Dean didn't bother resurfacing. Nosing up toward the soft hairs behind his baby brother’s ear.

“I caught him trying to cop a feel with a ten year old.”

Sam stiffened for a second, three heartbeats of silence before he growled. The sound went straight to Dean's dick, and he let his brother know. Grinding up against an ass that was no longer jailbait.

The man in front of them, gagged with his own socks and a long winding piece of duct tape, struggled hard. Dean didn't blame him. Most people would try to run in this situation; not that he'd be getting away. The age old chair and lashings of grimy rope was setting the scene for quite the party, and it would not do for the main entertainment to bail on them.

“And he’s all yours, Sammy. Yours to play with.”

“Really?” Sam’s voice lost all the gravel puberty had brought with it as he turned big wondering eyes on Dean. “I can do whatever I want big brother?”

If there was one thing Dean loved more than his brother, it was the games he played. He planted a secret kiss behind Sammy’s ear.

“Whatever you want.”

Rubbing his dick against Sam’s hip one last time, Dean withdrew to let Sammy do what Sammy did. And he hadn’t lied. Sammy was allowed to do whatever-the-fuck he wanted. Dean had made sure they had the most private room of the whole damn motel. Last one on the drawn out single story row, and no one but some 19 year old kid playing video games behind his desk on the other side of the property.

Shit motel rooms were so much better than abandoned warehouses.

Sure, there was no need for gags, and they had so much more space to play. But nothing beat sinking down into a badly upholstered chair to watch Sammy turn into every dirtbag’s dream.

It was a damn miracle how he managed to make his body look smaller than it was; younger. Angling his face so they got a good look at his lashes. Biting his lip like he was shy and inexperienced. Long ass arms that looked like they didn’t know where to be. That giggly shuffle forward.

“Hi mister.”

Dean grabbed at his jean clad dick, letting Sam take over the stage he’d set. Unless Sam asked, he wouldn’t be interfering. Now eighteen years old, he was so ready to do things solo.

Usually, he wasn’t this close by when Sam was seducing their mark. Just an unobtrusive presence at the back that kept an eye on the kid begging to get bent over the bar. Big caleidoscope eyes luring scum in like no one else could.

And while the guy in the chair wasn’t drunk, Dean could see the hypnotising effect Sammy was already having. He’d stopped fighting, instead warily eying Sam. Long fingers reached out to tug at the duct tape, pulling it off slowly and painfully. 

“Wow.” Sam sounded so surprised, as if he hadn’t been using tape like this for the past seven years. The pink tip of his tongue poking out past his lips as he concentrated on unwrapping his gift. “This is on real tight, sir.” Dean didn’t need to see a different angle to know Sam was staring innocently into the guy’s eyes. “But don’t worry! I’ll get it all off for you.”

And Sam started humming. Some old nursery rhyme neither of them knew the lyrics to. The kid was a god damn siren.

“My name’s Sam, by the way. It’s my birthday!”

The guy was confused. Weird tilt of his eyes made Dean wanna laugh. 

Some lizard part of his brain telling him he was supposed to be getting away, while his dick told him there was a prize right in front of him. 

“I’m a big boy now! Aren’t I?”

Dean was about to answer, when the last bit of tape pulled off of the guy. Angry red stripes where it had dug in crisscrossed across his pasty face, larger patches of his scraggly five day old beard clearly missing. 

“Aren’t I, mister?”

Jesus, he sounded like he was ten. 

“Yeah.”

Dean held in another snort. Creep number I don’t even know anymore sounded hella distracted, but Dean was sure that if Sam cut the ropes right at this minute no one would bother moving. 

“You know what my brother says about big boys?”

Worry flickered across the idiot’s face as he remembered that they weren’t alone in the room - like a normal human being forgot that they were tied to a chair because a kid was smiling at them- but he shook his head.

“They get to do adult things!”

And there it was. Pupils dilating, muscles relaxing. 

“Really? You always listen to your big brother?”

Sam laughed, childlike and happy.

“Yes, sir, mister. I do.” He leaned in closer, getting in the man’s personal space to stage whisper. “Do you do adult things too?”

The creep turned his face to give Sam a kiss, but the kid was quicker. Already dancing back like he’d never noticed the advance and was just waiting eagerly for the answer. Dean had taught him well. Sammy was a tad too eager to play bait, but no way in hell was he letting him go out there without some thorough training. 

“I sure do, baby.” The guy crooned. Pulling against the ropes in a way that Dean knew was eagerness; not fear. That’d change again. “I’m really good at it too.”

Sam gasped, honest to god clapping his hands together like he’d just been told Christmas was coming early.

“Really? Do you do it a lot?”

The guy’s face changed. Not in the magical way, like he was growing horns or shit. But the way that made Dean’s skin crawl with carefully repressed memories. The leering taking a backseat as the sleazebag tried to make Sam believe him trustworthy. There was no way to know for sure how many kids had seen that face.

“Of course, baby.” The hairs on the back of Dean’s neck prickled at the stolen pet name, but he waited it out. “I’ve got lots of practice. Could teach you if you wanted.”

Dean hadn’t checked what the guy did for a living. Didn’t look like he’d be a teacher. Or a preacher. 

“Really?” Big eyed and innocent, Sam sounded so eager. 

“I’m a police officer, son. You know you can trust me.”

And there it was. Not that the guy looked like he’d been paid in a while. Stupid enough to get caught by Dean almost by chance, so he’d probably slipped up in other ways too.

Sam nodded eagerly, like he hadn’t seen the dirty underbelly of society. 

“I don’t wanna do it, like, wrong though.” Sam turned his face far enough for Dean to see him bite at his lip. “Did you ever, um, did you help other kids?”

Ever the master of his craft, Sam sank to his knees. Smooth like butter, and damn, Dean had to squeeze the base of his dick to ward off the basest of thoughts. Later.

Patchy beard or no, the guy smiled down at Sam, looking all kinds of kind and caring as if anyone should look that way at a child while they were getting a hardon.

“I sure have. No need to worry. You're a big boy now.”

Dean rolled his eyes. He knew small towns didn’t have the biggest pool to pick their cops from, but come on. How thick was this one? 

Sam let a hand trail up and down the guy's jean clad thigh, fingertips skirting the edge of the growing bulge. Eager yet uncertain.

“What could you teach me?”

There was something wrong with the dude's eyes. A manic light growing within them as he stared at Sammy's hand. Maybe a stint in the loony bin could change him, maybe it couldn't. Not that they'd ever know. 

Couldn't take the chance.

“You've got such pretty lips,” Sam smiled on queue, ducking his head further down at the compliment he'd heard from deceiving mouths so often before. “you like sucking on lollipops?”

“Oh, yes sir! The cherry ones are my favorite cause they're sour.”

“Ain't that right. Now you can suck on other things too.” A suggestive tilt of his hips drew Sam's eyes down. “You ever hold a real one?”

Bitten lips fell open as Sam shook his head. Soft wisps of hair falling to cover his face in overplayed-bashfulness.

“That's ok. That's what your big brother brought me here for, isn't it? To teach ya?”

Sam nodded, glancing back at Dean for a fraction of a second. 

“Now I ain't got my hands so you're gonna have to help me out. Yeah. Good boy.”

Dean recognized the commands. Was there a script out there for pedophiles to learn by heart before they got to molest their first kid? _Take it out, Dean. Good boy. You're just helping dad. You like helping, don't you? Gentle. Stroke it nice for daddy._ _Growing up so fast. Such a fast learner. I'll teach you everything you need to know. Open wide._

“You need to be a big boy to fit it all in your mouth.”

It made Dean sick to see Sammy's hand wrapped around the guy's no doubt dirty dick. The dirtbag, however, was captivated. Staring so intently down at his kiddy fiddling prick that he never saw the knife coming.

His scream was delicious. High pitched and filled with both excruciating pain and horror. 

When it finally ended in a croak, Dean got up to check the window next to the door. No new cars. Kid still slouched behind his desk in the distance. Oblivious and innocent. 

The pervert was trying to talk. Garbled parts of words smashed to pieces by newly-broken vocal chords and pain. 

“Come on mister.” Sam still sounded younger than the eighteen year old he was, holding the severed appendage out like a cookie he was willing to share. “Time to put your big boy mouth to work.”

Smiling, Dean sank back down into his chosen seat. Sammy was the intellectual one out of the two of em. Happy to play on a more psychological level whereas Dean was just a fan of the plain old grab and stab scenario. 

“That's not fair.” Sam pouted, stabbing his knife deeper into the guy's thigh with each word. “You said you'd teach me, so open up your mouth!”

Dickbag had probably only meant to scream, but Sam was lightning fast. Up on his feet and shoving the bloody, limp dick in between sharp teeth before they snapped shut on a pained grunt. Sam slapped his hand down over the guy's mouth, preventing him from spitting his dick back out again.

“There you go. All the way in. Though I wonder if you can deepthroat.”

It was early enough that the pervert was still fighting. Head shaking and arms jerking against tight knots. Depending on how long Sam played, shock might set in before he bled to death. Getting him to open his mouth long enough this soon in the game might be tricky.

Another viscous stab, slicing down the meat of his leg, pulled a nice long scream from him. Plenty of time for Sam to shove the guy's own cock deep enough to make him gargle.

“Can I have the tape, big brother?”

“Sure thing babe.” Dean grinned as he tossed the silver ring over. Clever little Sammy killin on his own. A sight to see. Just like he’d always known it would be.

Crisscrossing new lines around an ever more plum coloured head, the tape freed up Sam's hands again. No way was wanna be child groomer spitting his dick back out. 

“It's a pity you can't talk anymore, mister. It really really is. Cause I bet there were so many other things you were gonna teach me. Other places you wanted to stick that pathetic thing.”

Sam smooted the tape flat with delicate fingertips, tongue poking out over smiling lips again, like he was carefully finishing up a school project. 

Shock was settling in around the edges of the pig's consciousness. Glazing eyes and muscles that started relaxing despite his obvious predicament. Shivering with the onset of blood loss as Sam stepped close to cradle his head; devilish grin right next to his prey’s ear.

“But don’t worry. Other nice people like you already taught me so many things. Here, I’ll show you.”

Blood was getting everywhere.

“Gonna have to leave an extra big tip for whatever poor-ass maid who’s gonna have’ta clean this all up.”

Sam paused, knife already halfway down the bloodstained shirt. Dean could see angry red lines and pricks where Sam had sawed too aggressively and cut the guy’s chest.  

“He said he was a cop. Do towns this small have crime scene cleaners? Hey! I asked you a question, mister.”

It took another three slaps across the face, blood bubbling from under the tape when he tried to talk, to get the dirtbag to focus.

“You said you were a cop.” A shaky nod. “You got people who clean up crime scenes like this? Like. Professionals?” Dean was pretty sure the guy whimpered, but he shook his head in a certain  _ no _ that had Sam humming. “Yeah. We’ll leave some cash for the cleaners. But they’ll probably just replace the carpet.”

With the matter settled, Sam went back to stripping the guy. Shirt, jeans, underwear, everything was in tatters.

“I know people aren’t meant to be naked together unless they really, really love each other.” Sam narrated. “But I’m still wearing all my clothes. So it’s ok. Isn’t it, Dean?”

“Exactly right, Sammy. Good boy.”

Reaching behind himself, Dean managed to flick open the shitty motel fridge and grab a beer. 

“All done.” Sam crowed. “Now we can have some real fun.”

Sam still looked like he was fucking twelve, even with the bloody knife in his hand and clothes that were gonna have to be burned, but the sheer amount of power he exuded had the recent castrati trying to back away.

“You like doing fun things, right? Cause I sure do.”

The dude was shaking his head. Weird look in his eyes as he tried to make the chair scoot back. Like gaining even an inch of space would save him. 

“Dean.” 

It wasn’t a question. Sam had a plan, and he’d be damned if he didn’t complete it.

“Yes, baby?”

“Can I cut him loose?”

Blood loss or not, a human who could smell his own death was dangerous. Not as dangerous as Sam though.

“Whatever you want, darling.”

Feet first. Then hands. Shit for brains stayed put. Suddenly holding on to the arms of the crappy chair like they were essential to his continued existence. 

Dean wanted to laugh, and he would have if this hadn’t been serious business. His one chance to maybe get away. If he’d managed to get out into the open and alert the teen he’d get a bullet to the head instead of what was coming. 

“Get on your knees, please, sir.”

Would anyone ever try to disobey when there was a bloody knife pricking them in the forehead? No one had … yet.

“Thank you. Now for this game I need your hands behind you back. Oh wow, thank you!”

More tape, and with Sam now behind the pig - more of an insult to the animals than to the monster on the floor - he was staring at Dean. Full on. Eyes big and teary; begging. 

Did he not remember that Dean was the one who’d lured him into the room with pictures on a phone before putting a gun against his head and nodding at the chair in the first place? He looked into eyes that resembled those of a human, and took a languid sip of the knockoff pilsner. There was no mercy within this room. Not for monsters.

“There.”

The patronizing little pat on the head near made the guy lose his balance. Dean looked at the sheer amount of blood on the carpet and knew this game wasn’t going to last much longer. 

“Now all we need is something that looks a bit like the thing in your mouth. Since it’s already there, you know, and you don’t have a spare.”

Dean watched his baby brother hum and haw as he pretended to look around the room.

“Oh, I know!”

Displaying far more strength than anyone would guess him to have, Sam pulled one of the now empty chair’s legs off; stepping on one of the legs, he yanked till worm eaten wood splintered.

“There we go. Oh don’t go to sleep just yet, sir. This is the fun bit everyone always wants to teach me.”

Eyes dark, Dean licked his lips. This was the best fucking part. Watching them fall apart and squirm on something way too big for their bodies. Truly showing them what it felt like.

Alone.

Scared.

Cold.

Naked.

Overpowered.

In pain.

“Just relax.” Sam cooed, lining up the splintered end and pushing. “Just breathe deep. It feels good if you do it right.”

Dean had heard those exact words so many times they were engraved into his mind. Like that magic feather or something in one of the Harry Potter books he’d read Sam when he’d been sick three years ago. 

_ Relax Dean. A deep breath and push. It feels real nice if you do it right. Feels real nice for me. You want daddy to feel good, don’t you? Such a good boy helping his daddy. Shhh. Relax.  _

For years, he’d listened. He’d been a good boy. Even when it hurt. And it hurt every. single. time. Just like it was hurting for the piece of shit mewling desperately on the floor now.

It took effort, Dean knew, to get anything in them. Sam knew it too. They usually did this part together. But Sam was giving it his all. Pushing with what had to be most of his body weight.

“Oh no. You’re bleeding here too now. Doesn’t it feel nice? It feels nice for me.”

The guy was dying. Dean could see his pulse leaping desperately against his neck. Veins popping across his forehead while he tried to get away. Taped hands yanking impotently. Feet pushing feebly at the carpet next to Sam’s bloodsoaked sneakers. 

Looking at Sam for permission, Dean pulled his own dick out. The last thing this guy would see as he bled out was Dean jerking it to his suffering. 

“Even Dean thinks it feels nice.”

The guy grew pale, movements slowing jerkily till they stopped completely.

“Mister?”

“You did good, Sam.”

“Yeah?” Sam sounded like Sam again. Dropping the act easily. “He lasted longer than I thought he would.”

Dean hummed, still stroking his dick.

“He really fell for it first.”

Sam snorted.

“I don’t know how so many of them keep getting away with it.  They’re so stupid.”

Dean shrugged.

“I dunno. If he really was a cop then he can cover for himself, I guess.”

Kicking at the guy just to make sure he really was dead all the way, Sam started stripping. Bloody clothes tossed in the corner, and cleaner ones used to get the worst of the blood off his hands and arms. Slowly, Dean followed suit, taking his beer with him when he crawled onto the single bed. 

“Gonna let me say thank you for the gift?”

All long legs and arms, Sam crawled onto the bed. Squawking when dean grabbed him around the waist to set hima against the headboard.

“Nope.” Making sure Sam couldn’t get up again, Dean crawled into his brother’s lap. “It’s  _ your _ birthday. So  _ you’re  _ the one getting spoiled.”

Smiling, Sam settled back. Versatile kid. “Thought he was my present?”

“Oh baby, he was just the start.”

Getting his knees under himself, Dean straddled Sam’s lap, lifting high enough to rub his ass down on Sammy’s overactive dick. Adrenaline always had them running high after a kill, and now way was he just going to go for a jog to burn of steam. 

Sam held his hips steady, guiding him in his fluid rocking till he was all the way hard.

“You lubed up for me?”

Dean hummed, finding his usual spot in Sam’s hair again. He liked cowgirl. It let him hug Sammy close no matter who was on top. 

Let them fuck like there was no one else in the world who could tear them apart.

“Mmmmmm. Stop teasing, Dean.”

Any other day, and he’d have made Sam beg for it - he could be so pretty - but today was special. With Sam holding him steady, he let himself open up for Sam.

It never hurt with him. Ever. Cause they loved each other. Cause they were made for each other. 

Sam swore, arms wrapped around Dean, pulling, moaning. Beautiful. 

It took them a minute to slow down again. Mouths so close together the air between them was hot and humid. 

“Love you, Dean. Love you so much.”

There was a corpse behind them that they were going to use as a canvas to the masses after this, but now all that mattered was  _ them _ .

“Love you too baby. My Sammy. All mine. And no one is ever going to take you away from me.”

Sam pushed his hips up, trying to get leverage to move.

“They can’t. Ever. I’m not a minor anymore.” Sweet sixteen be damned, eighteen was the birthday they’d needed. No social worker in the world could tear them apart if they figured out their parents were long dead. “Even if we get caught, Dean. They can’t send me to juvie no more.”

“Death row together.”

Sweat beading, Sam grabbed blindly for Dean’s hand, kissing the ring he’d worn for years now. 

“Till death do us part.”

**Author's Note:**

> Dean was molested by John after Mary died. After a while, he understood that it was wrong, but wanted to protect Sammy. If John didn't have Dean to turn to, he'd go find his younger son. Sam grows old enough to realize what is going on. And eventually John tries to turn his tricks on Sammy. who calls for Dean.  
> Fueled by anger, Dean kills John. They decide to torch the house and run away together, unwilling to risk being torn apart by the social workers John always threatened them with.  
> As they drive all over the US in the stolen Impala, they come across other pedophiles. Figuring they might as well save some other kids, they start killing them. Sam learns to be a lure. Dean waits to help with the kill.  
> As they grow older, and better at what they do, their kills get more and more elaborate. Aiming to show the men just what it feels like to be on the receiving end.  
> Being around sex pretty much non-stop, the brothers are eventually drawn to each other. Since they love each other more than anything else in the world, they decide to get married in their own special way.  
> They know that if ever caught, they'll probably go straight to death row. They plan to save their last bullets for themselves.
> 
> If you want to come yell at me on [tumblr](http://ryugarika.tumblr.com/) ... feel free to, I can take it.
> 
> Comments feed me!


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